


run (where she's waiting) run (where the lights are)

by shipwreckinabottle



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 18:58:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12941631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipwreckinabottle/pseuds/shipwreckinabottle
Summary: She's nothisKara.





	run (where she's waiting) run (where the lights are)

**Author's Note:**

> I low-key ship evil oliver / good kara with the whole "redemption plot" so hard.
> 
> Some changes in this story. 
> 
> Dark Arrow is not the fuhrer. Overgirl died of solar radiation poisoning before the invasion. The heroes of Earth-1 loses.

She lies in a wooden box.  
  
She lies quietly in a wooden box, beautiful, motionless, dead.  
  
His fault.  
  
His regret.  
  
His loss.  
  
_His_ Kara.  
  
Anger floods his veins.  
  
He will tear all worlds asunder in her name.  
  
He will find her again.  
  
_His_ Kara.

* * *

  
  
The first time he sees her in the cathedral, there’s a split second of hesitation.  
  
The first time he sees her in the cathedral, instinct and training takes over, the string goes taunt—and the arrow flies straight for her heart.  
  
She catches the arrow like _she_ would.  
  
She catches the arrow and snaps it in half the same way _she_ did.  
  
The memories stop him for a long second. Then he reloads and fires again.  
  
Because she’s not _his_ Kara.

* * *

  
  
The fight is long over.  
  
She lies at his feet, broken and bloody, another victim of the Fatherland’s might.  
  
His men treat her like a rag doll.  
  
His men toss her into the cages with the rest of their prisoners.  
  
His men think of her as nothing more than another enemy of the Fatherland.  
  
His men are right.  
  
Because she’s not _his_ Kara.

* * *

  
  
The Führer is delighted.  
  
The Führer wants to experiment on her.  
  
The Führer does not care if she dies.  
  
He does not care either.  
  
Because she’s not _his_ Kara.

* * *

 

  
  
Her cries echo through the building.  
  
Her cries echo through the night.  
  
Her cries echo through the memories of the time they experimented on _her_ with solar radiation.  
  
He feels a familiar anger.  
  
But the anger subsides as quickly as it comes.  
  
Because he remembers.  
  
He remembers she’s not _his_ Kara.

* * *

  
  
She’s strapped down onto the operating desk.  
  
Her breathing is weak.  
  
She’s barely alive.  
  
She’s in pain, in slow, agonizing pain.  
  
He remembers when _she’s_ on _her_ deathbed, solar radiation corrupting _her_ veins.  
  
He remembers _her_ in pain, in slow, agonizing pain.  
  
He remembers how _she_ dies.  
  
He increases the dosage of Kryptonite as per his Führer’s orders.  
  
She’s in more pain.  
  
She’s in instant, agonizing pain.  
  
But he does not care.  
  
Because she’s not _his_ Kara.

* * *

  
  
It’s two months before he sees her again.  
  
She’s been in the isolation chamber for two months.  
  
She’s been alone in the dark for two months.  
  
She been beaten so badly she can barely walk; the guards drag her on their way.  
  
He thinks she’s broken.  
  
He thinks she’s barely a husk of the woman he first sees in that cathedral.  
  
He thinks… but he’s wrong.  
  
There’s still that same fire in her eyes.  
  
She’s not _his_ Kara.  
  
But damned if _they_ do have the same eyes.

* * *

  
  
Some nights, he visits her when she sleeps.  
  
Some nights, he watches from afar as she trashes in her confines.  
  
Some nights, he’s there when she’s haunted by the nightmares that follow into her dreams.  
  
Those nights, he sees her pain.  
  
Those nights, he sees her suffering.  
  
Those nights, she's exactly like _his_ Kara.  
  
Those nights, he looks away.  
  
Because she’s not _his_ Kara.  
  
But.  
  
…

* * *

  
  
The warden catches her giving her rations to one of the younger prisoners.  
  
The warden wants to make an example of her.  
  
The warden whips her bloody, but still she does not stop sheltering the child with her body.  
  
He stops the warden.  
  
The sight angers him.  
  
For _his_ Kara would never protect the weak.  
  
His fist barrels into her stomach.  
  
_His_ Kara would purge the unworthy.  
  
His fist barrels into her ribs.  
  
_His_ Kara would only let the strong survive.  
  
His fist barrels into her sides.  
  
But…  
  
She’s not _his_ Kara.  
  
His fists barrel to a stop.  
  
She curls up into a ball.  
  
The warden lifts his whip at the child.  
  
She begs him.  
  
She begs him to spare the child.  
  
She begs him, and he spares the child.

* * *

  
  
She lies in her wooden casket, beautiful, motionless, dead.  
  
She lies in her wooden casket, beautiful, motionless, dead.  
  
She lies in her wooden casket, beautiful, motionless, dead.  
  
She lies in her radiation-proof aluminium box, dreadful, motionless, dead.  
  
The Führer refuses _her_ burial.  
  
The Führer refuses his wishes.  
  
The Führer wants to weaponize _her_ corpse.  
  
The Führer says it’s what _she_ would have wanted.  
  
The Führer says there is no greater honor serving the Fatherland even beyond one’s death.  
  
The Führer says…  
  
But…  
  
The Führer is not _his_ Kara.

* * *

  
  
He visits her in her cell.  
  
She looks at him in fear.  
  
She looks at him in pain.  
  
She looks at him in hunger.  
  
He visits her in her cell.  
  
She looks at him in fear.  
  
She looks at him in pain.  
  
She looks at him in confusion when he feeds her leftover crumbs, more than her last three meals combine.  
  
_His_ Kara would never accept the crumbs.  
  
_His_ Kara would see this as weakness.  
  
_His_ Kara would rather die.  
  
_His_ Kara would…  
  
But… she’s not _his_ Kara.

* * *

  
  
He no longer recognizes _her_.  
  
He no longer recognizes _her_ as the mad doctor takes _her_ apart in her lab.  
  
He no longer recognizes _her_ as the mad doctor saws _her_ solar-poisoned limbs into pieces, separates them, labels them for weaponization and distribution.  
  
He no longer recognizes _her_ as he watches them cut _her_ apart.  
  
He no longer recognizes _her_.  
  
He no longer recognizes _his_ Kara.  
  
The crates of sliced up limbs are _his_ Kara.  
  
But they’re _his_ Kara no more.

* * *

  
  
She’s quiet when he sneaks into her cell in the cold of night.  
  
She’s quiet when he breaks her free from her chains.  
  
She’s quiet and she’s too weak to walk.  
  
She’s quiet when he carries her to the portal room.  
  
She’s quiet when he sets the coordinates to her Earth.  
  
She’s quiet when he opens the portal to her home.  
  
She’s quiet, but he sees the questions in her eyes.  
  
She’s quiet, but her eyes ask, “ _Why?_ ”  
  
He’s quiet and he doesn’t reply.  
  
He’s quiet as he closes his eyes.  
  
He’s quiet and he says, “Because…--”  
  
He’s quiet when he realizes she's already gone.  
  
He's quiet and he says nonetheless, “—you’re not my Kara.”

* * *

  
  
He’s quiet when dozens of soldiers storm the room.  
  
He’s quiet when the Führer barks at the soldiers to arrest him.  
  
He’s quiet when the Führer barks at the soldiers to follow through the portal and bring her back.  
  
He’s quiet, and then...  
  
He smiles.  
  
He smiles and he presses the trigger in his hands.  
  
He smiles as the bombs he placed by the crates holding the radiated parts of _his_ Kara explodes.  
  
He smiles as his world turns to white.  
  
He smiles as his world turns to white and he sees _her_ again.  
  
He sees _her_ again.  
  
_His_ Kara.  
  
He laughs.  
  
He laughs and his world is no more.

  
  
_fin._

 


End file.
